


Stealthy Embrace

by annejumps



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Consentacles, Dream Sex, Masturbation, Other, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-04
Updated: 2012-07-04
Packaged: 2017-11-09 04:49:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/451472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur’s sure he’s got enough experience with PASIV technology by now to do this. It’s time; he’s alone, and the door’s locked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stealthy Embrace

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [kink_bingo](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) Round 5 for the square _tentacles_. Beta'd by [anatsuno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anatsuno/pseuds/anatsuno).

Arthur’s sure he’s got enough experience with PASIV technology by now to do this. It’s time; he’s alone, and the door’s locked.

Down in the dream, he opens his eyes.

He’s in a silent room, on a huge, plush bed. He’s on his back. In a tie, dress shirt, pants, and shoes.

Closing his eyes, he concentrates.

At first, he hears them; they produce a hissing susurration as they glide over the satin covers, from the foot of the bed.

Then he feels them encroach, one wrapping around his ankle.

He jumps despite himself, raising up to lean on his elbows and watch, biting his lip. They’re sleek-looking, gleaming slightly, purple fading to mauve. There are hints of sucker-like shapes on them, but they’re mostly smooth. Coiled, muscular power is evident in their sinuous movements.

Another one has started untying his shoe on his other foot; the first one works the fabric of his sock aside, seeking and caressing bare skin. It’s not cold, but he shivers.

More of them appear over the edge of the bed, some from the sides. Roughly ten; some are thicker, some thinner. They pull off his shoes, gentle but inexorable. The first glides up his leg, over and around his calf in a spiral, stroking the back of his knee. It pauses just above there, but keeps his leg in place.

They remove his socks. There’s an insinuating slide underneath the small of his back, and suddenly his hips are tilted up, while another slowly but deftly unbuckles, unbuttons, and unzips him.

He’s abruptly so hard that for a moment it’s difficult to breathe.

Disappointingly, they then move to loosen his tie. The knot undone, they slide it out from under his collar, silk over cotton producing a soft hiss.

He moves to tug his pants down, but with lightning speed two of them, strong, lash around his wrists. He struggles briefly before they pin his arms to the bed.

Others pull his shirt open, popping buttons. He’s not wearing an undershirt, so they slither over his bare skin, wrapping loosely around his chest, their rubbery texture catching his nipples. He feels the tip of one poke at a scar on his ribs, a divot from a bullet graze.

His arms are pulled above his head; both wrists are secured in a single grip.

Pulling his pants down his hips, they stop at his thighs before pulling down his underwear. There’s a pause for one to rub against his cock, and then wrap around it, small suckers creating friction. That one vibrates in an unexpected trill, and he gasps. The one that released his wrist then covers his mouth, pressing his head back into the bed so he isn’t able to look down at himself any longer.

The one in his pants leg creeps up his thigh, nudges behind his balls and then starts to probe at him, slick and insistent. Others pull his pants further down, and pry his legs apart, wrapping around his thighs and holding them up. He arches upward.

The one on his cock squeezes it, slick now with something from its own pores as well as his precome, and the one at his hole thickens, pulsing, and breaches him, with force behind it.

His gasp is stifled by the pressure over his mouth, and he pulls against the one around his wrists; in response, it pulls tighter.

The one inside him is the perfect thickness, blunt with a ridge like the head of a cock instead of tapered like the others. He spreads his thighs further apart still to press his hips upward, as best he can against the constriction of his pants and underwear. His muscles start to burn from the strain.

His cock is stroked with exactly the right pressure, just firmly enough to almost hurt. But it’s slightly too slow, and he thrusts into the motion, craving something faster. As it strokes him faster, though, the one inside him moves faster too. He moans, the muffled sound of it making his cock throb. The one across his mouth slips away, to wrap loosely around his neck, and he gasps, sucking in air. Another slips into his open mouth, fat and slick, oozing some viscous substance. He sucks at it, swallowing whatever it’s exuding, which is tart enough to make him salivate.

The one inside him is growing larger, thicker, and it has new ridges on it, or possibly suckers. Its tip rubs his prostate, and at the shock of how good it feels, his legs go limp in their holds.

Dimly, he realizes that the ooze he’s swallowed is infiltrating his system, and suffusing his bloodstream with the most deliciously blissful feeling he can remember experiencing. He closes his eyes with a moan, vaguely aware that a tapered end is insinuating its way inside him, stealthy, to join the larger, ridged one. As it presses into him, getting thicker as it goes, he has a brief jolt of alarm that’s quickly subsumed into the ocean of swelling pleasure, but not before his legs jerk.

They pull his pants and underwear down past his knees, and he’s spread still further apart.

The two now inside him thrust in counterpoint, slower than before. It’s maddening. The one around his cock is secreting something cool and tingly, loosening its hold just slightly before wrapping around the base. His urgency ebbs. Frustrated, he squirms against their holds, arms pulling, trying to raise his head.

They all stop moving until he stops struggling.

Then he can feel the two inside of him swelling; they move faster now, against each other and inside him. The one clasping his cock starts stroking him again, exuding something wet and warm now, its grip muscular and tight as a fist. He wants to see, but not being able to seems to magnify the sensations.

He finds his arms and legs straining again, unable to resist doing so, but it has no effect: the holds are unyielding. He can struggle all he wants and they will not release him until they’re done. Impossibly full, unable to move except how they allow him to, he knows deep down he should be panicking, but instead his cock throbs anew at that brief acknowledgement of terror followed by acceptance.

The ones inside him and around his cock subject him to coordinated strokes, faster, harder, humming with brief vibrations as they drive into him. He starts to pant around the one in his mouth, which seems to be larger now. It pulses, sending out more juices, forcing him to swallow them down. His chin is wet, and he groans anew with the fresh flood of ecstasy hitting his bloodstream. But he knows it’s only just beginning.

When he starts to come, they seem to take no notice of it, except for a slight increase in speed.

His shuddering cry is smothered. That first taste of intoxication is now surpassed a hundredfold, his entire body ringing with staggering ecstasy. He comes and comes, shaking with it, and they continue stroking him and thrusting into him, milking him, relentless, ignoring his groans of pleasure-pain as they work his sensitive flesh, faster now.

He understood before that they wouldn’t release him until they were done with him. He’s distantly aware of all of them quivering, pulsing, and they come too, spurting slick, salty fluid. Their movements slow, but they continue writhing.

Eventually, it does abate, but only after he’s completely, utterly spent.

He has no sense of how long it takes his breathing to slow from harsh panting, or until the sweat on his bared skin starts to cool. Gradually, he realizes that the ones inside him are slowly receding, gentle. He feels sore, stretched, used, and very sticky.

It’s wonderful.

Dimly, he can hear the music he timed to start playing: Chausson’s “Poème de l'amour et de la mer.” Soon, he’ll be awake, up top.

They loosen their hold on his wrists and legs, and the one around his neck moves to wrap around his chest, loose, caressing. He can breathe freely, but the overall sense is that of an embrace. They’re soft, and warm, and his goosebumps fade. He relaxes, deeply content.

The music is growing louder, and then he’s awake, alone in his hotel bed.

He blinks at the ceiling, flushed, and removes his connector. Sitting up, he takes off his headphones, and sets them aside. His shorts, of course, are a mess.

Quite the wet dream.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the poem [_Octopus_](https://tspace.library.utoronto.ca/html/1807/4350/poem1014.html).
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> [Chausson's "Poème de l'amour et de la mer"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DG2cPhwiC7w)
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> Thanks to anatsuno, Amy, and Liz for all your help!


End file.
